Picture Perfect
by Rhianne
Summary: A mysterious girl claims to be Race's sister. She accidentally falls in love with one of the newsies one of the biggest mistakes of her life.
1. Prologue

Picture Perfect by: Rhianne

Prologue

A young girl of no more than 16 pushed her black curls away from her face. Her brown eyes studied the man across the aisle from her. He would do nicely. When the train had fully stopped, the dark-haired beauty stood and pretended to have a hard time retrieving her bag from above her.

"Ma'am?" the gentleman with a black coat and tie asked. "Do you need help?"

"Oh!" The girl blushed and batted her eyes a couple of times for good measure. Placing her hand over her chest she said, "Why, thank you."

The man smiled at the girl and reached up for her bag.

Carefully, the girl slipped her hand into the man's coat pocket and retrieved exactly what she was looking for. She dropped it into her purse and smiled at the man as he handed her bag to her.

"Thank you," the girl said shyly.

The man tipped his hat and the girl got off the train. Double-checking that the man was nowhere in sight, she reached into her purse and counted her profit.

A slow smile crept across her face as she counted fifteen dollars. She brushed the dust from her dark green dress then pulled out a picture tucked in her black shoes. She opened it and studied it not for the first time.

A man with black hair and a woman with lighter curly hair stood in the back while two young children, a boy and a girl both with dark curls, stood in front. The whole family was well dressed; and why shouldn't they be? They were rich, something the girl wanted very badly.

"Here I come, New York," she breathed tucking the picture away again. "Ready or not."

Who is this mysterious girl? And what's up with the picture? Please review and tell me if I should keep going!


	2. Charlotte Higgins

Charlotte Higgins

"Excuse me, sir," a young girl wearing a navy blue dress with gold buttons and black curls swept back from her brown eyes placed her hand gently on the book-keeper's arm. "Do you know anyone by the name of Higgins?"

"Shore. He sells roight down by dat coinah."

The girl craned her neck but could not see anyone there. "Do you know where he lives?"

"Where all dem guys live. In da boys' house roight down dat way t'ree blocks. On da left."

"Thank you," the girl flashed him a dazzling smile and headed in the direction he pointed.

Sells what? she wondered. I bet he's rich. Even richer than he was before. I wonder if he remembers…

But the girl had no time left to wonder. She had arrived at her desired destination.

"The boys' house," she whispered quietly reading every sign on the buildings. The only one that came close was 'The Newsboys' Lodging House.' Deciding that it certainly wouldn't hurt to try she slowly opened the door and stepped inside from the now-growing-dark city.

She could hardly believe her eyes. There were boys everywhere! And from every age from 12 to 18.

"Excuse me," she spoke to the first boy she came across. "Is there a Mr. Higgins here?"

"Higgins? Yeah. Upstaihs."

"Thank you," the girl said climbing the stairs. She was growing a bit more uncomfortable with every boy she saw. She entered the room directly across from the stairs where loud voices were so muffled by one another that it was impossible to understand anyone.

The girl tried to remember what the boy in the picture looked like. Was there a boy here who even resembled him?

She walked from group to group, studying each face. Then she saw him, playing poker with a cigar hanging from the right corner of his mouth. She approched him as he laughed and scooped all the money on the table towards him.

"Mr. Higgins?"

"Yeah?" A boy with a hat pushed back enough to see his dark curls turned and froze when he felt himself staring into a face nearly identical to his own. She looked like…"Charlotte?"

The girl eagerly nodded, a smile splitting her face.

"Yer…alive?"

Again the girl nodded. "How long has it been?"

"Ages. Look, uh…dey call me Race here."

Charlotte smiled. "Well, I'm still Charlotte."

Race laughed and pulled her into a hug. "Yer goigeous. How didja find me?"

"A man knew your name. He told me where I could find you. Look." Charlotte reached for the picture and unfolded it. She held it out to Race.

Race reached for his pocket watch opened the lid, and showed it to Charlotte, who smiled in delight when she saw the same picture.

"I didn't know ya servived da fire. I watched da house boin ta da ground wid me own eyes."

Without warning, tears pooled in Charlotte's eyes and poured down the sides of her face. "I'm just glad to have my brother back!" she cried into Race's shoulder.

Well, should I keep going? Please review my story and let me know!


	3. Micaela Jones

Charlotte woke at nine o'clock. She headed straight for the mirror. She was horrified to see bags under puffy, red eyes. Regretting she had forced herself to cry the night before, she began her makeup work. When she was satisfied with her face, she pulled on a brick-red dress and began dressing her hair. In hopes of making herself appear more like a younger sister, she French braided her hair down the back.

After pinching her cheeks for a subtle blush, Charlotte was very pleased with her appearance and stepped out of the small room located on the side of the lodging house entryway.

She had to admit that she was disappointed that Race did not live in a grand house somewhere.

Her plastered smile fell when she noticed no boys were around.

"Where on Earth?" she asked herself quietly as she climbed the stairs.

Opening the door to the bunkroom, Charlotte was more surprised than delighted to find it completely empty. Not only empty, but _messy._ Sheets were tossed carelessly onto the floor with towels draped over bedposts. A few pillows had managed to find their way to the floor. 

Charlotte knew she would do better to find out the boys' schedule first, but she just couldn't help herself. Standing next to a bed, she lifted the mattress. She let out a sigh when there were only a few scattered papers. Moving the next bed, she did the same. Nothing. Moving on again, her thoughts drifted to Race. Which bed was his? Did he keep his fortune under his mattress? In a cigar box maybe? A smile suddenly cut into her face as she found a bit of treasure. At least five dollars were under a mattress. Charlotte was torn.

Suppose she took the money. She had only just arrived here so it would be impossible for her to continue her work if she was noticed. But five whole dollars! No. She couldn't risk losing the fortune when she had come so close. Perhaps just one dollar? NO! She couldn't take any chances.

Charlotte knew she had to remove herself from the temptation before she spoiled her years of hard work. Hard work of practicing keeping a straight face, trying to look sincere, and gathering the courage to flirt with men if necessary.

She walked briskly down the stairs and out of the lodging house. A walk would help to clear her head.

She had no more taken than ten steps when she saw a young boy about her age. A _well-dressed_ boy. Well-dressed meant money. And boy meant that she could flutter her eyelashes and pout her lips and make him fall so hard he'd think he'd run into a brick wall. She'd done it a million times. One more wouldn't hurt. Besides, she wouldn't be in New York very long.

Charlotte sidled up to the boy. "Jona- oh! I'm sorry! I thought you were someone else."

The boy with blond hair and brown eyes (and a cute dimple) smiled at the flustered girl.

"No, that's fine. Were you looking for someone?"

"My cousin. I'm staying with him and he was supposed to take me to brunch, but-"

"What is your cousin's name?"

"Jonathan Jones. I'm Micaela Jones." Charlotte pretended to be shy.

"I'm Troy Matthews. Perhaps I could do the honor of taking you to brunch?"

"Oh, that's so kind of you!" Charlotte gushed slipping her hand into the crook of his arm.

Troy smiled at the beautiful girl he had stumbled upon. "Do you have any relatives here besides your cousin?"

Charlotte shook her head. "I'm new to this area. I'm afraid I don't know my way around."

"Well, Miss Jones, I would be honored to show you."

Charlotte gave a coy smile. "I would like that very much."

As always, reviews are much appreciated!


	4. Charlotte's Request

Charlotte was in a good mood. For the most part, things were going her way. Troy was pretty well under her thumb. She was convinced he would give her the shirt off his back if she asked.

But right now she had to focus on Race. After Troy had left, Charlotte had run into Race selling newspapers ona street corner. He had told her he would be back by six and then he would take her out.

Charlotte was now busying herself while waiting for Race by unpacking. She tried to think of what to say to Race tonight. She wanted to ask him about the fortune, but it was too soon. Then a thought struck her.

A rich man often has rich friends. And it would be perfectly normal of her to ask if he had any friends and then desire to meet them. If he did have rich friends…she may never have to work again!

Charlotte found herself too excited to unpack. She shut her small suitcase and plopped down onto her bed. It wouldn't be lond and then she would havbe all the money she would ever need!

She would have a beautiful house down South. Next to the woods. And a stream. She would never have to wear the same dress twice. She would be invited to high-class parties! And every woman would be jealous of her grace and beauty. And of course, her money.

Charlotte was brought out of her daydreaming when she heard voices. She opened her door to find newsies beginning to pour in from outside.

There was Race. He was coming to talk to her.

"Sorry, Charlotte. We can go now. Is Tibby's ok?"

"Of course," Charlotte let loose one of her charming smiles and followed Race out the door.

Charlotte took advantage of the opportunity and plunged right in. "Race, do you have any friends here?"

"Yeah. All dem guys in dere is me pals."

"I mean any friends _outside_ of the lodging house?"

"Oh. Yeah. One, I guess."

"Just one?"

"Yep."

"Well, I would like to meet him."

Race cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well," Charlotte began, caught a little off guard. She smiled sweetly. "Because he's your friend."

"He lives in Brooklyn. 'Spose I could take ya tamarra if ya really want."

"Oh, Race!" Charlotte said adoringly as she looped her arm through his. "You're the best!"

Race laughed. "But I should woin ya, Spot is…shoi of 'imself."

"Sure of himself?"

"_Very_ shoi of 'imself."

Charlotte let the conversation rest at tat wondering what exactly this "Spot" was like.

Hmmmm. What do ya think? More to come but please review!


	5. Spot Conlon

Charlotte was having a hard time keeping up with Race. "How far away is Brooklyn?" Charlotte, a girl accustomed to riding in carriages, asked curiously.

"Not far," Race said, not answering her question at all.

Although Charlotte wondered about her appearance, she refrained from asking. She did not want to appear vain. Instead, she inquired about Spot.

"What did you mean the other night when you said Spot was 'sure of himself?'"

Race paused. "He t'inks he's king of da woild. Don't ansah ta nobody. He's also a…a floit. 'E likes da goils, so be ca'eful, kid."

Charlotte nodded, but was unconvinced. Nobody had ever gotten the best of her. She was always the one to play the games, such as the one she was playing now. Her thoughts drifted back to her appearance as they crossed a bridge. Had Race called it the Brooklyn Bridge? She couldn't remember. Maybe she should have dressed a little more adult-like. She didn't know what to expect from this "Spot." Spot what?

"Does Mr. Spot have a last name?"

"Conlon."

Spot Conlon. "Ah." Charlotte nodded her approval. "Mr. Conlon."

Race smiled and shook his head. She was falling for him already! "Wait 'ere," Race said to Charlotte and then disappeared.

While he was gone, Charlotte prepared herself for the worst: if Spot was, in fact, just like Race had described him.

Within moments Race was back, a sandy-blond haired boy with him. He had a slingshot shoved into his pants and held a cane.

Charlotte tried not to show her amusement. He probably thought he was a king! She sized him up for a moment, deciding exactly how she should play the game with him.

A charming, crooked smile caught her off guard. Let the games begin, she thought as she gave one of her own heart-melting smiles.

"Spot, dis is Charlotte. Charlotte, dis 'ere is Spot Conlon."

"A pleasure."

"Didn't know Race could 'ave such a goigeous sistah," Spot remarked coolly.

Charlotte laughed nervously, her heart beating wildly inside of her. This wasn't how the game was supposed to go!

"Ya got a nice smile."

Was _he_ playing games with _her_?

"Maybe ya'd like ta see Brooklyn sometime."

He was!

Race jumped in. "Maybe tamarra, Spot. Dat ok witch you, Charlotte? Charlotte?"

"Yes!" Charlotte was brought back down to Earth very quickly. "Tomorrow."

"Woiks fer me," Spot grinned.

Charlotte's hear was beating so hard she was sure it would leap from her chest but she covered very nicely by batting her eyelashes and saying, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Conlon."

Race and Spot exchanged their own good-byes and then Race and Charlotte were on their way back to Manhattan.

"Sorry we was only dere a liddle bit."

Charlotte didn't reply. She only smiled weakly, her eyes giving away her exhaustion. When they were back home Race suggested she go to bed. Charlotte, butterflies still fluttering around in her stomach, had no qualms.

Soooooo……… Whaddya think? Please review!


	6. The Journal

Dear Diary,

I've had a most disturbing day. But first I shall give you the background. I'm now in Manhattan. I know what you're thinking- what have you gotten yourself into, Sharon Roberts? But this is hopefully the last strike. After this I should have all the money I need to fulfill my dream. I'm posing as Charlotte Higgins this time. The younger sister of a wealthy man. I have only to find out where he is keeping his fortune.

I'm also Micaela Jones to another young man, Troy. He will add to my already swelling purse as well.

But, as you know from experience, I only write to you if something deeply concerns me. And something does.

For years I have played with boys' hearts without understanding the true feeling. I have now met a boy who has turned the tables. He's Spot Conlon; a charming boy with somewhat decent manners, though he is a bit forward.

Two days ago, he showed me around Brooklyn. While we strolled down the streets at a nice slow pace, I got several envious glares from other girls. At first it disturbed me. Then I decided to play it for all it was worth and I gently put my hand in the crook of his elbow.

For once I wish I wasn't who I am. My goal now is to get out of here as quickly as possible. I have a fairly sound plan. Every Thursday Troy steps outside to buy a newspaper from the dirty boy a block away. I will be waiting outside of his door and when he steps out, I will slip in. I will quickly collect my payment and then leave.

I will then come here, to the lodging house, and gather the rest of my fortune. Then I will board a train for South Carolina. I have only to purchase my ticket, which I will do later when I better know my plans. I have to go, but I hope I will have a bit of leisure time in which I may write more in you.

***

Charlotte was searching through a small bookshop when a gentle touch to her elbow caused her to whirl around. "Troy!"

"I didn't think to see you in this musty old shop."

"I was looking for a new journal. My other is nearly filled up."

"I haven't seen you for days!" The handsome boy said taking both of Charlotte's hands.

"I'm so sorry. My uncle has grown ill. I'm afraid he has to remain in bed."

"I hope you won't become ill."

Charlotte laughed- a pleasant thing to hear. "What have you been up to?"

"My father may accept a job further south, in which case we haven't much time left together."

"Then we shall have to make the most of our time now."

Troy smiled. "I like you a lot, Micaela. Would you honor me by accompanying me to my father's company ball?"

Charlotte's heart skipped a beat with all the excitement. "I would love to. When is it?"

"A week from yesterday. May I pick you up at six?"

"Yes. I'll see you then."

"Micaela!" Troy called as Charlotte turned to leave. "I need to know where you live."

"Oh. I will be at the café around the corner from 88th Avenue with my cousin, Justin. You may pick me up there."

"I thought your cousin was Jonathan?"

"Well, he is. Justin is a year younger."

"I see. Do you have any more cousins I don't know about?"

Charlotte smiled. "Not to my knowledge."

Troy laughed. "I shall see you soon."

"Yes." Charlotte agreed as she left the bookshop.

"Charlotte?"

"Yes!" Charlotte whirled around to fine Race looking at her suspiciously. Charlotte cleared her throat and answered more calmly, "Yes?"

"Da boys an' me are gonna eat at Tibby's taday. Wanna come?"

"I'd love to," Charlotte smiled anxiously as she hurried Race away from the bookshop.

"Didja need a book er somethin?"

"I was just browsing."

"Oh. K. If ya need anything jus ask."

"Actually, I was wondering why you live in such a run-down place."

"Cuz I kin afford it."

"But Mother and Father left us money, didn't they?"

"A liddle."

Charlotte's heart beat faster. A little to him would be like millions to her! "Where is it?"

"Da money?"

"Yes."

"Ya mean ya didn't know?"

"Know what?" Charlotte was growing impatient.

"Dat-"

"Charlotte!"

Charlotte turned, very upset at the interruption. Her anger quickly melted into delightment when she saw Spot standing before her. "Hi, Spot."

Spot grinned and casually draped his arm around Charlotte's shoulders. Little did he know the effect his touch was having on her. "How ya been, Charlotte?"

"Fine, thank you. Yourself?"

"Poifect. Race, mind if I steal yer sistah?"

"Dat's fine. See ya tanight, sis."

"Bye!" Charlotte called over her shoulder as Spot led her away. She was having mixed feelings about this. She had been so close. If Spot could have come just a minute later…Not that she was complaining about Spot's company. She very much enjoyed his company. But she was…worried about herself. She knew she should drop the whole plan and leave while she still could- while her heart still _let_ her leave. But her dream was so important to her, and she had worked so hard to get here- to find Race and his fortune. How could she throw it all away?

"Do ya like da docks?"

Charlotte snapped back to attention. "Yes. They're beautiful."

Charlotte soaked in Spot's warm smile, completely missing the figure standing on the side of the street, watching it all very carefully.

Please read and review! (I'm almost done. There are probably two more chapters)


	7. Pictures of the Past

Pictures of the Past

Charlotte was able to relax the next evening. She felt more at peace now that she had a concrete plan. She would go to the ball with Troy, pickpocket him at the end of the evening, and then collect her reward from Racetrack. One unpleasant thought was that she would have to tear the room apart, and she wouldn't have much time to do so.

Charlotte smiled as she looked at her train ticket. She could not wait to leave this place and be on her way to her dream. Charlotte began organizing, putting everything she wouldn't need at the bottom of her suitcase. As she lifted one of her many filled journals, a small photo fluttered to the floor. Charlotte picked it up and saw it was the picture of Race's family. Of the real Charlotte's family. She sighed. Charlotte had been such a dear friend to her. 

Paper-clipped behind it was another photo. Charlotte looked at the picture now beginning to turn yellow. It was of a young man with dark hair and sharp piercing gray eyes. His strong square jaw was immistakable, and memories began to flood back. He was Joseph Donaldson, the son of a factory owner.

She remembered clearly now. She had spent a winter there once. He had caught her out. Seen her digging through the top drawer in his room. She had liked him. She honestly had. But he would not see her when she tried to explain herself and make amends.

"Oh, Joseph," she sighed. "You were such a dear friend. If only you hadn't overreacted."

She shuddered when she thought of the persecution he had put her under. He called the police on her, forcing her to flee the whole state. She dropped the pictures into the wastebasket as if she had been burned.

Heart pounding wildly inside of her, Charlotte closed her eyes against the painful memories. Crumbling onto her bed, she wept bitterly for Joseph…for Spot.


	8. Revelations Part I

Revelations Part I

Three days later Race felt in his pocket. Good. He had enough money to go out to eat that night. He had asked Charlotte to join him and the others, but she had declined. He had noticed she was dressed up when she left, but he didn't say anything. She was probably going to meet Spot.

"Race?" Jack came from Charlotte's room with a confused look on his face. He handed him two photos paper-clipped together. "Dis wuz in Charlotte's trash. I wuz emptyin' it. I don't tink she would want ta throw dem away."

Race looked at the pictures. The first was of his family. And the second…"Jack ain't dat..?"

"It must be," Jack said inspecting the picture. "It is! Dat's Mr. Donaldson from da packaging company! What's dis?" he asked pointing to the back of the first picture.

Race flipped the photo over. "I can't read coisive, Jackie. Here."

Jack took the old picture and read slowly as he made out the words.

__

"Ellen, tank you fer sendin us a pictah of yer 

family. Here is ours, as promised. Everyone 

seems ta tink dat me Charlotte is da one sittin on 

yer lap. We must git Sharon an Charlotte togethah 

sometime." 

Jack looked up. "Who's Sharon?"

Race paused. "Ellen…me muddah's friend. Sharon…Sharon Roberts! Ellen Roberts!" Race ran up the stairs two at a time with Jack in tow.

"Race?" Jack found Race sitting on his bunk. He handed another picture to him. Two little girls were smiling and holding each other's hands.

Jack's jaw dropped. "Dey're nearly identical!"

"Yeah. Cept Charlotte had a dimple on 'er left cheek. Sharon didn't have none." Race laughed. "People always t'ought dey wuz sistahs."

"Why would Charlotte 'ave a picture _from_ yer muddah? An why does she got a picture of ol' Joe?"

"I wuz kinda wonderin dat meself, Cowboy. Maybe we should ask 'er."


	9. Revelations Part II

Revelations Part II

Troy smiled as he handed Charlotte a glass of punch. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Charlotte smiled sweetly and purposely brushed her hand against his as she took the refreshing drink. "Yes, quite."

"After you've had your drink, Micaela, I'll have to sweet-talk you into giving me another dance."

Charlotte laughed and glanced across the room. She had caught a gentleman looking at her several times. Now he made his way towards them and grinned when he had covered the distance.

"Troy, old boy!"

Troy laughed and shook hands. "Donald! How've you been?"

There was something familiar about this man…

"Just fine. Yourself?"

His voice…

"Fine as well."

"Is this your entrancing date?"

Those eyes…

"This is Micaela Jones. She's visiting a cousin."

"Oh? And who is that?"

Troy looked at Charlotte and she snapped out of her trance. "Jonathan Jones."

Donald's face twisted into one of confusion. "I thought I knew every man in the city, but I've never heard of him before."

"Well, I-"

"Ah!" Donald's face lit up as a new song began. "Micaela, care to join me for a dance?"

Panic shot through Charlotte's blood.

"Go ahead, sweetheart," Troy prodded taking her cup.

Donald led Charlotte onto the floor and the couple blended in perfectly.

"Where are you from, Micaela?"

"Oh, the South."

"What state?" Donald persisted.

"State?"

"I have a friend down South. Maybe you know her."

"Perhaps," Charlotte said nervously.

Donald locked his arm around Charlotte's waist. "Sharon Roberts."

It was him! "Joseph!" Charlotte gasped. "But, Troy called you Donald!"

"My last name is Donaldson, my friends call me Donald. What are you doing here, you little thief?"

Charlotte tried to subtly pull away. "Joseph, I've done nothing here. Let me go and I'll leave!"

"You belong in jail, Sharon!"

Fear filled Sharon's eyes for the first time in a long time. "Joseph, I beg you!" Sharon was pulling with all her strength now.

"I will see you rot in prison!"

"No!" Sharon screamed bringing her knee up into his stomach.

The music stopped and the guests turned and stared.Sharon and Joseph stared coldly at each other for just a second.

"Micaela?" Troy hesitantly took a step toward her.

Sharon bolted, running out of the grand building. Not far behind, Troy and Joseph with three policemen were chasing her.

Sharon tried to gather her thoughts as her feet slammed against the road. She could go directly to the train station, but they could hold the train. She could try Race, but would he be sympathetic to a liar? Spot! He liked her. Surely he would help her. She ran with a new burst of energy, kicking off her confining shoes. At all costs, she must reach Brooklyn. In no time at all, she was across the Brooklyn Bridge and just steps from Sot's corner. "Spot!" she cried with the little breath she had. She could see him.

He turned when he heard his name.

She fell into his arms panting. "Spot, I need help!"

"Hold her!" Troy, Joseph, and the policeman called.

Spot looked down into Sharon's face. "What's goin on?"

Tears pooled in Sharon's eyes. "Is it so wrong to have a dream? I-"

"You conniving little-" Joseph ripped Sharon from Spot's arms and threw her into the grasp of the policemen.

"Hey!"

"Restrain yourself, sir," Joseph said coolly putting his hand in Spot's way. "You know nothing of these affairs."

"Charlotte-"

"Charlotte?" Joseph laughed bitterly. "You thought her name was Charlotte?"

A police carriage arrived and the policemen ushered Sharon inside. The heavy door slammed and locked, with Sharon inside. The carriage began moving. Sharon's hope was viscously ripped from her soul and a single tear slowly rolled down her cheek as she crumpled to the floor.

The End!

So, what did you think? Please review!!!


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